White lace and whispered intentions
The lace doesn’t cover.
It lingers—
the way a thought lingers after midnight,
warm against skin,
woven close to breath.
Black pearls rest
👠 Velvet feet. Inked legs. A woman who knows what she’s worth.
My soles do not walk for free.
They rest on silk, not on floors.
And if you want to worship them,
you must kneel with more than words.
I am not here to flirt.
I am here to be served, desired, adorned.
You don’t touch a woman like me with hungry hands.
You approach with elegance,
and you offer like a gentleman who knows what royalty costs.
Because I am both Princess and Mistress.
And if you want access to the gallery,
you better know the price of art that never begs to be seen.
Earn your trace.
Tribute with grace.
And remember: I choose who gets close.
🥀👠🖤🥃🍷🔥
